


Mark Me Up, Make Me Yours- Louis and Harry's Story

by Diaryofanarcissisticgayman



Series: Mark Me Up, Make Me Yours [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abusive!Louis, Cheating, Consensual Underage Sex, Domestic Violence, Dubious Consent, I forgot to add that with rest of the triggers, M/M, Nobody else is really important, Other people show up sporadically, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, This is about Louis and Harry, This story is fucked up guys, Victim!Harry, but not really, no happy ending, so fucked up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 19:23:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4233735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diaryofanarcissisticgayman/pseuds/Diaryofanarcissisticgayman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the tenth time it happens, Harry knows that it isn’t an accident anymore. It’s worse than that. It’s Harry’s own fault. He’s the one who drove Louis to this. He’s the one who deserves it. “This is what it feels like when you’re gone!” Louis spits, hurling his half-empty beer bottle at the wall somewhere behind Harry’s head. “It hurts Harry! All the time!”</p>
<p>“Lou, please, calm down.” Harry pleads, keeping himself small because Louis doesn’t like to be challenged when he’s like this. He has to try though. Last time he just let Louis keep going, they’d had to replace two floor-to-ceiling windows in their bedroom after their telly had gone through them.</p>
<p>“I’m not done talking!” Louis roars, his knuckles connecting with the side of Harry’s jaw and sending him crashing to the floor. Louis is small, but he’s strong. He has more muscle than you’d guess from looking at his wiry frame. Harry knows it well though. He knows exactly how much power Louis has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mark Me Up, Make Me Yours- Louis and Harry's Story

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written Larry before as a main pairing, and I know that shows in this story. I'm sorry for that. I did everything I could to keep it at my normal level of quality, but I feel like this came out sub-par even for me. It was a really emotional story for me to write for personal reasons, and that, combined with my inexperience and distaste for the pairing, led to this. One more warning, look back up at the tags. If there is anything in there that risks triggering you, then don't read this story. It helps give insight into Harry's character in MMU MMY, but it isn't worth reading if it makes you uncomfortable. Also, if you saw this and came for the Larry, know that it isn't a happy ending, and Louis is not shown in a good light for story purposes.

**Lou-Lou: Styles, I’m out front. I only have the car til 8, so don’t b vain n keep me waiting.**

Harry jumps off of his bed the second he finishes reading the message. Louis drove the seventy-five miles from Doncaster to Holmes Chapel in order to see him, and they’re going to make the most of it. He grabs his wallet off his dresser, making sure that he has enough money to pay Louis back for gas. It costs a lot when they want to see each other since they live so far apart, and Louis can never hold down a job for longer than a couple of weeks. So Harry saves up his paychecks from the bakery and gives some (actually most) of his money to Louis to help alleviate the cost.

“Bye Mum! Be back around six!” Harry calls over his shoulder as he races out the door. He hears her call back exasperatedly to ‘Behave yourselves!’ but whenever he’s with Louis that has a tendency to not happen so well. He bounds up to the little blue car, waving through the window at his feathery-haired friend. “Hi Lou!”

“Hey Styles.” Louis chuckles, opening up the door from the driver’s seat so that Harry can climb in. “So, where to?”

“The bakery please.” Harry beams. “Barbara promised to set aside some of those biscuits you like for us.”

“Sounds perfect Curly.” Louis laughs, ruffling a hand through Harry’s fringe before driving off, not knowing about the warmth he’s caused to spread over Harry’s cheeks at the contact.

He always drives really carefully until they get a block or two over from Harry’s house in case his mum is watching, but then he drives like a maniac until they get wherever they’re going. It should take ten minutes to reach the bakery, but with Louis behind the wheel it only ever takes three. Harry won’t admit that it makes him nervous though, because he wants so badly for Louis to think he’s cool, and the older boy won’t if he knows Harry is scared of something stupid.

They walk into the bakery giggling, and Harry runs over, ducking under the counter to wrap Barbara up in a big hug. “Hi Barb!” he grins. “Did you-”

“They’re in the warming tray Dear.” Barbara hums, pressing a sloppy kiss to Harry’s cheek. He gives her one right back before flitting off to grab the biscuits and a couple of drinks for them. Mr. Wakefield, the owner, would sigh and roll his eyes, but neither of them would make him make him pay. They’re like grandparents to him, even if they are his bosses.

“God, these things are bloody magical Barb! When are you going to run away with me?” Louis calls to her, shoving an entire biscuit in his mouth at once. She smiles and shakes her head. She thinks Louis is too cheeky for his own good, and Harry has to agree most of the time. “So Curly, what’s on the docket for today?”

“Well there’s the antique fair at the Leisure Center.” Harry offers. Louis rolls his eyes, but Harry adds “You said your mum’s birthday is coming up, so I thought maybe you could find her something there.”

“That’s not a half bad idea actually my young Harold.” Louis smirks. “She likes that old stuff. Makes her feel proper fancy.”

“Do- Do you want to check it out then?” Harry asks tentatively.

“Could do.” Louis nods. “Not until we finish these biscuits though. They’re half the reason I drive all the way out here to this sleepy little village.”

“Oh.” Harry says quietly, casting his eyes down at the table and hoping desperately that he doesn’t look as deflated as he feels.

“Relax Styles, you’re the other half. I like seeing your face in person.” Louis laughs. “Looks better than over skype.”

“Oh thanks!” Harry huffs, knowing his face has just lit up like a Christmas tree even though he’s trying to go for indignant.

“Any time Harold.” Louis cackles, grabbing another biscuit and tossing it up into the air to catch it in his mouth.

 

They make their way through the Antique Fair, and Louis manages to find this pretty little watch for his mum that he gets at a good price after Harry charms the sales-woman. The hug Louis gives him afterwards definitely kicks up a swarm of butterflies in Harry’s stomach, and they still haven’t settled down an hour later when they’re sitting on the hood of Louis’ car, running down the time left until they have to part ways again for another month or so because these trips hit Louis hard financially.

“What’s the matter Harry?” Louis asks.

“Nothing.” Harry mumbles, staring at his own fingertips to avoid looking up and blushing for the hundredth time today.

“Don’t give me that. I can tell when something is up with you Curls.” Louis huffs, nudging Harry with his elbow.

“I just- I want to tell you something, but I’ve never told anyone before. Not even my mum or Gemma or Robin.” Harry whispers. “But- But I don’t want you to hate me.”

“Nothing is going to make me hate you Harry.” Louis tells him, an uncharacteristic gentleness seeping into his tone as he wraps Harry’s hand up in his own. “I promise. You can tell me.”

“I’m- I think- I-” Harry chokes on the words, fear catching them and keeping them back before they can change everything. Louis gives his hand a squeeze, and Harry takes a moment to breathe before he admits “I’m gay.”

“And?” Louis hums.

“And what?” Harry asks, afraid that Louis has figured out about Harry’s epic-level crush on the other lad, and yet simultaneously relieved that Louis hasn’t freaked out or let go of his hand.

“And what else?” Louis questions. “Because I know you can’t possibly think that I’d hate you for that. Did you murder someone? Set fire to an orphanage? Are you secretly Bin Laden in disguise?”

“No. I didn’t hurt anyone and I’m not a terrorist.” Harry huffs. “I’m just gay.”

“Well that’s nothing terrible Harry.” Louis smiles. “I’m perfectly fine with you being gay, and I’m pretty positive that your mum and sister will be too.”

“Really?” Harry asks, his bottom lip wobbling from the relief he’s feeling. He knows tears are starting to build up in his eyes, but they’re good ones. Happy ones. Louis didn’t reject him, didn’t hit him or call him names. At least one person out there still cares about him despite this thing that makes him different. That’s a start.

“Really.” Louis nods, pulling Harry into his chest and letting him cry out all the nervous emotions he’d built up over the last few days once he’d made up his mind to tell Louis first. “Now let’s get you cleaned up and home. Can’t have our mums mad at us when we actually didn’t make any trouble for once.”

“Thanks Lou-Lou.” Harry mumbles into the fabric of Louis’ jacket.

“Any time Harold.” Louis hums, echoing the words he’d said earlier.

 

“Harry! You’ve got a visitor!” Anne calls up from the door. Harry sighs and pushes himself up off of his bed. Louis hasn’t texted him back all day, and the curly haired boy is beginning to fear that Louis didn’t mean a word of what he said yesterday. That it was all just a ploy to get Harry back home without making a scene and then disappear from his life forever because Harry is just a disgusting little faggot. Except he was right about Harry’s mum, and Gemma, and Robin not caring. They’d accepted him with open arms, telling him that it was just fine if he was gay, as long as he was happy.

He slumps out the door, walking downstairs slowly until he hears an all too familiar voice chirping away with his mum’s. His feet can’t move fast enough then as he sprints towards the entryway. “Louis?” he gasps, taking in the scene in front of him.

Louis is standing there with a dozen slightly smushed red roses, wearing a suit that’s a little big on him, and the brightest smile Harry has ever seen. Anne’s is softer, as if she’s happy for Harry even though the younger lad has no idea what’s going on. “What are you doing here?” Harry asks quietly.

“I was wondering if maybe, possibly, you’d like to go on a date with me?” Louis asks sheepishly. “I didn’t want to assume that you liked me, but I really like you Harry, so I thought-”

“Yes!” Harry squeals, jumping up and down with a bit less dignity than he should probably have at this moment. He doesn’t care though. Louis likes him. Louis Tomlinson likes him, and that’s all Harry thinks he’s ever really wanted. “Just- Just let me get dressed for a date, okay?”

“Okay.” Louis grins.

“Harry.” Anne says pointedly, reminding him that none of this has actually been approved of by his parents.

“Please Mum?” Harry begs, clasping his hands in front of his chest.

“No later than nine. You have school in the morning.” Anne sighs.

“Thanks Mum!” Harry beams, throwing his arms around Anne in a tight hug. He presses a kiss to her cheek and then scrambles upstairs, pulling off his ratty t-shirt and tugging on the button up that his mum had made him get for a wedding last year, and a blazer to go over it. He checks his hair in the mirror, but he can’t really do much with it, so he settles for the wild mop of curls and hopes that Louis likes it. The girls at school seem to, but they’re girls, and younger than Louis, so maybe it’s different. He takes a minute to steady himself, and then walks back out of his room and down the stairs to find his mum and Louis standing around in awkward silence.

“I promise he’ll be home by nine.” Louis tells her, taking hold of Harry’s hand. “I’ll take good care of him.”

“You’d better Louis. He’s my baby.” Anne tells him. Her tone is sharp, but her eyes are giving her away as the fond softie she is. She’s feeling like an overprotective mama-bear, but she’s also happy for them. “Not a minute later than that or my foot goes down on this.”

“I promise.” Louis repeats, walking out with Harry in tow.

 

“How’s your spaghetti?” Louis asks, fiddling with his tie like he’s been doing all evening.

“Same as yours probably.” Harry giggles.

“Shit, yeah, of course it is.” Louis sighs, muttering insults to himself under his breath and looking like he’s on the verge of smacking his own face.

“Lou, relax.” Harry laughs, trying to put him at ease. “I’m enjoying myself. I had fun at the arcade. The meal is good. You don’t have to be nervous. This is- This is beyond my wildest dreams. I never thought that you’d like me back.”

“So you did like me too?” Louis asks, his eyes wide with what Harry thinks is hope. “You didn’t just say yes because you felt sorry for me doing all this?”

“I’ve had a crush on you since the concert.” Harry admits with a blush. “Since you typed your number into my phone because we kept harmonizing to all the songs together. I thought you were so cute, but I figured you thought I was just a stupid, weird little kid.”

“Never.” Louis says, shaking his head. “You being a couple years younger than me doesn’t bother me. Does- Does it bother you?”

“Nope.” Harry smiles. “I like it. You know a lot of things I don’t yet. You’re so- So cool. And mature.”

“Never been accused of that before.” Louis snorts.

“That’s because you only let people see the mischievous, bratty part of you.” Harry says shyly. “They don’t get to see the parts of you that are smart, and sweet, and brave.”

“You really think I’m all of those things?” Louis asks, his mouth hanging open.

“I don’t just like you because you’re hot Louis.” Harry mumbles, flushing a deep scarlet because it’s definitely going to take some getting used to. Being able to say that kind of thing that is. “I like all of you. Those parts of you may not be the most obvious ones all the time to everyone else, but I know that they’re the real you. You’re smarter than anyone gives you credit for, and you were so nice to me when I was afraid to tell my mum that I’m gay, and it was so brave of you to drive out here to ask me on a date when you didn’t know if I liked you. I couldn’t have done that. I’d have been too scared.”

“You also can’t drive yet.” Louis grins.

“Don’t get cheeky with me Lou.” Harry huffs. “I was trying to have a moment.”

“I know.” Louis sighs. “But I’m not good at things like that. I get all flustered and I don’t know what to say, so I make jokes. I try to cut the tension before it can really get to me.”

“It’s okay.” Harry smiles. “I like you anyways.”

 

“I probably need to get you inside before your mother thinks I’m debauching you in here.” Louis laughs, drumming on the steering wheel. “It’ll look better for us if we get you back inside a few minutes early.”

“Probably.” Harry nods. “But I don’t want tonight to end yet, and I’ll probably be asleep by the time you get home.”

“I don’t want it to be over yet either.” Louis says sheepishly. “But your mum kind of scares me, and I don’t want her to be cross with me.”

“Will you walk me to the door?” Harry asks, hoping the streetlight isn’t casting enough light to show the blush on his cheeks.

“Of course. Wait right there.” Louis grins, hopping out of the car and running around to the other side. He opens the door for Harry, holding out his hand to help the younger boy up, and then quietly lacing their fingers together. It’s enough to renew the blush on Harry’s cheeks, but he buries his face in his bouquet to hide it this time.

“I had a really good time tonight.” Harry mumbles when they reach the front step.

“I did too.” Louis beams. Harry leans forward, letting his eyes flutter shut as his lips pucker in anticipation of the kiss goodnight. He squeaks when instead of his mouth, Louis presses a peck to his cheek. “Not tonight Harry. I’ll only give you a proper snog if you go out with me again. That one’ll knock your socks off.”

“When?” Harry asks eagerly.

“My mum might let me borrow the car again next weekend if I promise to do a bunch of extra chores.” Louis tells him. “So will you?”

“Yes.” Harry grins. “Of course.”

“Until next week then Styles.” Louis smirks.

“Okay.” Harry nods, watching as Louis walks back to his car, throwing one last look back at Harry and ending their night together with a wink that sends a tingle from Harry’s scalp all the way down to his toes.

 

“God, you are so fucking hot.” Louis growls, pressing Harry up against the door and kissing him hard. Harry can feel Louis’ prick rubbing against him through the fabric of the loose shorts that they’re both wearing. He lets a moan loose, and Louis licks into his mouth when his lips part from it. They break apart to breathe after an eternity, but they’re still glued together from their chests down. “How long are Anne and Robin gone for?”

“A couple of hours at least.” Harry breathes out. “Can- Can we have- Have-”

“Only if you think you’re ready Harry.” Louis murmurs. “Don’t think we have to do it.”

“I want to.” Harry says firmly, barely managing to cover the nerves that are practically shaking him to pieces. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Have you ever done this before?” Louis asks, slipping his hands down to Harry’s hips. His thumbs just barely move over the skin at the top of Harry’s pants, but it feels like they spread fire through his whole body.

“No.” Harry admits. “So- So be gentle with me okay?”

“Of course Love.” Louis purrs before recapturing Harry’s lips in a softer kiss that lasts only a fleeting moment. “Do you have what we need?”

“My mum bought me condoms last year when she gave me the talk, and I bought some lube a little while ago for this.” Harry tells him. “Is- Is that everything we need?”

“Yeah.” Louis nods. He slips his hands under the fabric of Harry’s shirt lifting it slowly while he looks to Harry for confirmation. When the younger boy nods, Louis shucks it up and to the side. His own follows quickly behind, and then he’s back on Harry in an instant, skin against skin in a way that Harry has never felt before. It’s thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

Louis steers them towards the bed, walking Harry backwards slowly until they lower onto the duvet. They kiss slowly for a while, breathing each other in and working up the nerve to take things to the next level. The furthest they’ve gone so far has been a few heavy make out sessions, the last one of which ended when Harry came in his pants from Louis grinding against him in the back of the car. He’d been mortified, but Louis had told him it was alright and that it ‘Happens to the best of us.’

Now though, it’s out there, and Harry wants to do this, wants to give himself to Louis because he’s so in love, and that’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re in love. That doesn’t stop him from squeaking when Louis’ hands dip beneath the fabric of his shorts to ease them down though. “What if I get naked first? Would that make it easier?” Louis asks.

“Yeah.” Harry agrees after a moment of thinking about it. “If that’s alright.”

“It’s fine.” Louis chuckles. He climbs backwards off of the bed, fitting his thumbs into the waistband of his own shorts. He doesn’t bother easing them off, instead choosing to drop both his shorts and his briefs to the ground in one swift motion that leaves him bare. He doesn’t seem nervous, and he doesn’t have any reason to be Harry supposes.

He’s not as big as Harry is, he’s more compact in every way, but he’s beautiful nonetheless. His skin is this amazing golden brown, flawless and smooth all the way around. He gives a quick turn, Harry’s eyes nearly popping out of his head when he sees the arse he’s been wanking to in all its true glory. “Like what you see Styles?”

“Yeah.” Harry croaks out. “Should I go now?”

“Would you mind if I took them off for you?” Louis asks.

“No, that sounds good.” Harry says, feeling dizzy at the prospect. He doesn’t know how to feel. He’s nervous and excited, happy and scared. His whole body feels a thousand times more sensitive than normal. Everything is moving so fast, and yet not fast enough at the same time.

Louis’ fingers grip the fabric and he pulls it down slowly until Harry has nothing left between him and the air except for a pair of tented boxer-briefs. “You good?” Louis asks as he grabs ahold of the elastic.

“Do it.” Harry says quietly, lifting up his hips to help the process along.

Louis doesn’t look at him until the pants are on the floor, and when he does, his eyes go wide. “Shit! You’re bloody massive!”

“Am I?” Harry asks. He’s never seen any other dick besides his own, Louis’ just now, and some in a few dirty videos he’s seen online. They seem about the same size most of the time, except for Louis’.

“It’s a thing of fucking beauty.” Louis grins wickedly. “Holy shit Styles. I never would have guessed.”

“Well stop talking about it!” Harry whines, burying his face in his hands to hide his embarrassed flush. It doesn’t do much good though. He can feel it spread down to his neck and chest, giving him away mercilessly.

“Don’t know why you’re being so shy.” Louis hums, climbing back up Harry’s body. “I’d walk around with it hanging out for the world to see if I had a cock that great.”

“Lou.” Harry whimpers.

“Fine. We’ll stop talking about it.” Louis says gently, removing Harry’s hands from his face. “I have a quick question though, do you man-scape, or are you naturally this hairless?”

“It’s natural.” Harry mumbles. “I did shave my legs once, to see how it would feel, but it itched really badly when it all grew back so I didn’t do it again.”

“Fucking hell that’s hot.” Louis growls, ducking down and pressing Harry into the mattress with a hard snog. Their dicks brush against each other and Harry’s whole body gives a shiver while a moan rips out of his throat. It’s better than anything Harry has ever felt before. “Alright, roll over onto your stomach and I’ll start opening you up, okay?”

“O-Okay.” Harry squeaks out. He flips over, letting Louis spread his legs open. He feels so exposed, so silly, and he has to bury his face in the pillow to keep from letting his nerves and embarrassment show. He hears the drawer slide open, and then the extremely distinctive sound of a cap snapping open.

“Alright, you need to relax a bit, or this is going to hurt.” Louis says softly, cupping one side of Harry’s bum in his hand and pushing it to the side to get better access.

“I am.” Harry lies. How could he be relaxed? He’s finally about to lose his virginity to Louis, the boy he loves. Anyone would be more than a little nervous and excited, right? The tip of Louis’ finger prods at his hole, and Harry clenches reflexively before forcing himself to loosen up and mutter “Sorry. Sorry, I’ll relax.”

“I’m not going to hurt you Harry.” Louis tells him. “Tell me if it feels bad, okay?”

“Okay.” Harry agrees, gasping when Louis’ finger pushes in. It doesn’t hurt exactly, but it does feel weird. He’d meant to try this himself, but he always got too nervous. He found out after they started dating that Louis has done this before, so he just decided to let the older boy help him figure it out. It feels even weirder when Louis starts moving his finger in and out. His body doesn’t quite know what to do with the sensation, and it chooses to tremble a little. Harry makes sure not to clamp down on Louis’ finger though. He can do that much.

Suddenly Louis does something, and it’s like a bolt of lightning shoots up Harry’s spine. His body spasms, fingers clenching in the duvet and his neck snaps back as he moans loudly. “What- What was that?” he asks shakily as Louis chuckles.

“That right there is the reason people enjoy bottoming.” Louis laughs. “It’s called your prostate. It creates the liquid that makes jizz a bit watery. It also happens to be the male equivalent of a g-spot.”

“Holy shit.” Harry mumbles, slumping back down onto the bed. “Feels amazing.”

“I’m going to put in another finger now, alright?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, okay.” Harry nods. This one is a bit more uncomfortable, but Louis brushes over that spot again, and Harry shivers from the pleasure. It more than makes up for the strange sensation of being stretched open.

“You’re doing so good.” Louis murmurs. “Almost ready for me.”

“I- I think I’m ready now Lou.” Harry tells him after a few more moments of Louis steadily moving his fingers apart.

“Yeah- Yeah, good.” Louis mutters. “Get up on your hands and knees for me?”

Harry shifts himself up like Louis asked, turning his head and watching as Louis opens up a condom and rolls it on. He adds a bit more lube, then positions himself behind Harry. He starts to press inside and Harry hisses because it’s painful as hell. “Shh, it’s alright Love. It’ll stop hurting once I’m all the way inside.” Louis tells him. Harry’s breath hitches in his throat, but he manages to make himself stay still while Louis pushes further in. Louis’ hips pull up flush against his bum and the older boy moans “God- You feel so good Harry.”

He waits a minute to let Harry adjust before he makes a few shallow thrusts. It doesn’t hurt so badly now. It’s not much different from the fingers really, except he feels fuller, more stretched out. Louis starts thrusting faster, his grunts layering with the sound of skin slapping against skin. Occasionally he brushes over Harry’s prostate, which causes the younger boy to shiver and moan.

“God- Fuck!” Louis growls, draping himself over Harry’s back as he pumps in harder, pressing soft, sloppy kisses to the bottom of Harry’s neck. His movements become choppy, erratic, and he groans loudly, burying himself inside Harry as he whispers out “I love you.”

It’s the first time either of them have said it out loud, and it’s enough to push Harry over the edge, sobbing as he cums hard onto his duvet with his hand pumping furiously. Louis pulls out, slumping over to the side and onto his back. Harry goes to cuddle him, to say “I love you too.”, but Louis just pecks him on the lips and says that they need to clean up in case Harrys mum comes home early.

Harry doesn’t let that get to him though, because Louis loves him. He even said it first. That’s all that matters.

 

“I did it! I made it in!” Harry squeals, finding himself grabbed up in a group hug by his mum, Gemma, Robin, and Louis all at once. They’re all laughing and smiling and offering their congratulations. He’s not sure, but he thinks he’s crying. He knows he’s definitely at least shaking. It’s all so surreal.

“Can’t believe that twat had the audacity to say no.” Louis grumbles when they all break apart. “Giving a bad name to all us ‘Louis’s out there. Bloody idiot he is.”

“Congrats Bug.” Gemma beams at him, pressing a kiss to his forehead that he just knows has left a mark. He’s too elated to care though. He’d perform with her lip-gloss on his face for the rest of the competition if that’s what it took.

“My baby!” Anne coos, wrapping him up in her arms again, despite the fact that the rest of them have collectively agreed to let up. “Oh, I can’t believe you’re leaving, but I’m so proud.”

“We’re all proud.” Robin agrees. “You blew them away out there.”

“Thank you guys.” Harry smiles. “And Lou, thank you so much for letting me do this.”

“You’d better win and prove both of us right.” Louis smirks, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re going to though. I can feel it.”

“You really think I can win?” Harry asks nervously.

“I know it Curls.” Louis grins. “You sang it better than Stevie did himself.”

“Did not.” Harry mumbles, a bashful flush lighting up his cheeks.

“Walsh was right about the confidence though. You’re gonna need to get a handle on that. If you do, then nobody will even be able to compete with you.” Louis chuckles. “We’ll see you after your exit interview. You did good Curly. Own it.”

“Own it.” Harry echoes with a nod. “I can do that.”

 

“You should do it.” Louis sighs.

“No. Louis, I love you. I don’t-” Harry argues.

“Harry, you need to do this.” Louis says adamantly. “You’ve worked so hard for this. I’m not saying we should break up, but you can’t let this stand in the way.”

“I’m not going to give you up just for a record deal Louis.” Harry huffs. “I’ll find a different way.”

“I don’t want to break up either. I just think you should stay in the closet until you’ve made a big enough name for yourself that it won’t matter anymore.” Louis tells him. “It won’t be forever. Just a few years.”

“I might not even win.” Harry points out.

“You’re going to win Harry.” Louis scoffs. “You’re Britain’s golden boy. Everybody loves you. Tomorrow night, yours is the name they’re going to read out, and you’ll finally get what you deserve. You have to do everything you can to keep this dream alive, for both of us. I’m not letting you throw it away over me. You need to stay closeted.”

“We’ll still be together though, right?” Harry asks, his voice on the edge of begging.

“Of course.” Louis grins. “I’m not letting go of you. We’ll get through this Harry. I promise.”

“Say it again.” Harry requests.

“We’ll get through this. I promise.” Louis repeats, pressing a soft kiss to Harry’s lips. “I love you Curly.”

“Love you too Lou-Lou.” Harry giggles.

 

“I’m so tired Lou.” Harry groans, flopping down onto his shitty hotel bed and sighing with relief, because at least it’s a solid surface and he doesn’t have to stand anymore. Or move. He really can’t imagine moving.

“Thirteen shows in eight days will do that.” Louis chuckles through the mobile connection.

“I’m having a bit of trouble remembering why I wanted this.” Harry mumbles, shifting just enough to let his face slip to the side so that Louis can actually hear him speak rather than his words being muffled by the mattress. “It’s not even my tour. Like, I’m not on stage for the amount of time I will be for my own concerts because there are a bunch of other people too. How am I going to do this by myself?”

“You’re just starting out Curly.” Louis laughs. “You’ll get used to it soon enough. What’s it like on stage?”

“It’s amazing.” Harry admits, feeling guilty that Louis isn’t getting to experience it too, because it’s still his dream, even if he let Harry have it instead. “There’s so much energy. It’s like- It’s like all the screams and stuff charge my batteries or something. When I’m out there I feel like a superhero.”

“You kind of are you know.” Louis says quietly. “You’re amazing Harry.”

“Are you still coming on Friday?” Harry asks tentatively.

“Your mum, Gemma, Robin, and I are meeting up there.” Louis tells him. “Not missing my boyfriend’s seventeenth birthday, am I?”

“I just wanted to make sure.” Harry smiles. “I won’t really be able to see you guys until after the show, so it’s going to be late. And I’m probably going to be cranky and tired if the last few days are any indication.”

“That’s fine. I’ll take you into the loo at the restaurant and blow you to improve your mood.” Louis hums.

“That might work.” Harry grins.

 

“This is it.” Louis squeals once the realtor steps out to take a call. “It’s perfect!”

“You think so?” Harry asks, looking over the paperwork he’ll have to sign and rubbing at his temple. He’s only just barely turned eighteen for Christ’s sake. It’s going to take him days to figure all this out.

“Don’t you?” Louis scoffs. “It’s gorgeous.”

“It’s expensive.” Harry counters.

“You are a full on celebrity millionaire Styles.” Louis huffs.

“And this house costs double what I’ve made so far. It’s half a million pounds over the budget we set.” Harry sighs. “I’m not saying no. I’m not. I like this place, and if you want it, then I’m more than happy to buy it. But we need to be absolutely sure that this is the one before I do that Lou. Don’t you think it’s a bit much?”

“Not really.” Louis shrugs. “You’ve seen my mum’s house. I’ve been cramped into too small spaces with too many people for most of my life. I’d like some room to spread my legs for once.”

“Forty-five hundred square feet is a bit more room than your legs take up.” Harry mutters. “If it’s really what you want though, then we’ll do it. But you’re going to be the one writing out all the forms. My wrist hurts just looking at this.”

“Come on.” Louis says with a wicked grin, grabbing Harry by the wrist and tugging him through the maze of a house until they reach the bedroom again. He closes the door and then presses Harry up against it. “Stay quiet.”

“Lou, no, we can’t.” Harry groans.

“It’s our house Harry. We can do whatever we like.” Louis hums, palming at Harry through his jeans. It feels good is the thing, insanely good, but they can’t get caught. The realtor thinks that Louis is Harry’s mate, a friend who’ll be living with him and watching the house when Harry is on tour. Catching them with Harry’s dick in Louis’ mouth will probably refute that story.

“It’s not our house yet.” Harry reminds him.

“It will be though.” Louis chuckles, sinking down to his knees. “We’re going to have a house Harry. Our own house. A place for just the two of us to have our own life together. That turns me on.”

“Everything turns you on.” Harry scoffs. “You got horny watching The Great British Bake Off last night.”

“What can I say? Reminds me of my favorite amateur baker.” Louis smirks.

“I was a professional.” Harry hisses, trying desperately not to buck his hips as Louis mouths over the bulge in his jeans. “I got paid to bake. That means I wasn’t an amateur.”

“You got paid to smile at old ladies while you made coffee.” Louis snorts.

“I will have you know-” Harry starts.

“Yeah, yeah. Best macarons in Cheshire County.” Louis supplies with a roll of his eyes. “Shut up and let me suck you off now.”

“Mr. Styles?” comes a call through the door. It’s not right on the other side, but he can tell that she’s moving closer. “Is everything all right?”

Harry panics, hoisting Louis up off the floor and then walking a bit away to make it look like he’s been taking in the view. Louis perches himself on the edge of the bed just as the realtor walks in. “Are you having second thoughts about the location?” she asks, blessedly oblivious to what had been going on only seconds before.

“No.” Harry says, shaking his head. “I’ll take it.”

“We were just having a bit of a row over who gets this bedroom.” Louis chirps, slipping into a lie so easily that it’s startling. “He thinks that because he’s buying the place, I get stuck in one of the other rooms while he gets this pretty view all to himself, but who’s the one who’ll be living here and doing the upkeep for more than just six months a year? Me. What do you think Love?”

“I have to side with my client.” she chuckles, batting her eyelashes towards Louis in a way that makes Harry’s stomach clench and the blood drain out of his face.

“What’s see if I can’t change your mind over a cuppa while Curly gets started on the paperwork?” Louis hums, crossing from the bed in an instant because his charms work even better up close. He’s got one arm on the wall behind her, his body leaned in close as a playful smirk crosses over his features.

“Hey!” Harry protests before he can realize how strange it must seem, his mind too thrown by Louis’ flirting to remember the story they’ve told. Louis gives him a sharp look and a raised eyebrow as if to say ‘Just keeping up appearances.’, but that isn’t what it feels like. Harry’s whole body is threatening to become overwhelmed by the tight knot of nausea in his stomach. The realtor looks startled by Harry’s outburst, a sheepish blush covering her cheeks as she ducks to the side and away from Louis. “Um- Sorry- I- I was just wondering if we could negotiate the price down somewhat?”

“I’m afraid the seller is very set on the price.” she frowns. “He’s already turned down three other offers, one of which was only a few thousand pounds under asking.”

“I should have expected that.” Harry sighs. “It’s fine. The place is worth it I guess. Alright, show me what I have to fill out to make an official offer.”

“And then we can continue our discussion.” Louis says quietly, not that it stops the words from reaching Harry’s ears. “And we’ll see who you really think deserves the big bedroom.”

 

“Hey Baby.” Louis giggles, stumbling into their hotel room. Harry stops his furious pacing, his lip worried through so badly that he can taste the coppery tang of blood. It’s half three in the morning. Harry literally hasn’t seen Louis in twelve hours, and the older lad has had his phone shut off for nine of them.

Harry is torn between being livid, and being relieved. He decides to keep his voice neutral when he asks “Where have you been?”

“That cuppa turned into dinner and then a club.” Louis shrugs, struggling to pull his t-shirt over his head. “But she definitely doesn’t think we’re together now.”

“Did- Did you have sex with her?” Harry asks weakly, his voice wavering in a decidedly non-neutral way now.

“Nah.” Louis grins. “Danced a bit. Had a good chat. Didn’t fuck her though.”

“But you wanted to.” Harry finishes for him.

“Just because I love you and your cock doesn’t mean I don’t occasionally think about women Styles. I’m not gay, I’m bi, and yeah, that means that sometimes I want to fuck a bird.” Louis tells him matter-of-factly. “It’s not cheating to fantasize.”

“How drunk are you right now?” Harry asks.

“Not enough to find this conversation worth having.” Louis scoffs, heading towards the mini-bar and pulling out a variety of several tiny bottles. He opens one up and downs it easily before starting on another.

“Lou, please, just come to bed.” Harry sighs. They can talk about all of this in the morning. Now Harry knows Louis is safe, that he didn’t cheat, and that’s enough for tonight. He’s too physically and emotionally exhausted to handle any more of this.

“’M not ready.” Louis shrugs. “I’ll keep extra quiet though, so you can sleep.”

“Lou, please.” Harry begs, crossing the room and giving Louis’ elbow a tug towards the bed.

“I said no!” Louis yells. Harry never sees it coming. He couldn’t imagine it happening until his eyes are pointed at the floor and the taste of blood in his mouth is a lot more prevalent than it was a minute ago. His ears are ringing and his eyes are starting to water as the pain begins to make itself known. “Shit! Harry, Baby, I’m so sorry. I-”

“Don’t touch me!” Harry hisses, flinching away when Louis tries to lift his face back up.

“Harry, I swear- I- I didn’t mean to do it. You have to believe me.” Louis pleads, his eyes looking all too sober now. “I’m so, so sorry Baby.”

“You- You hit me.” Harry slurs out, his mouth feeling like fire from where the slap caused his teeth to tear a gash on the inside of his cheek.

“I didn’t mean to.” Louis whimpers, tears starting to build in the corners of his eyes. “Please- Please, you have to know I never meant to do it. I wasn’t thinking Harry. I’m drunk. I’d never hurt you.”

“It’s okay.” Harry sighs. “I mean, it’s not okay, but I know you didn’t mean it Lou.”

“I didn’t. I promise I didn’t.” Louis sniffles, coming closer and examining the mark on Harry’s cheekbone. “God, I’m so sorry Baby. I’ll never do it again.”

 

By the tenth time it happens, Harry knows that it isn’t an accident anymore. It’s worse than that. It’s Harry’s own fault. He’s the one who drove Louis to this. He’s the one who deserves it. “This is what it feels like when you’re gone!” Louis spits, hurling his half-empty beer bottle at the wall somewhere behind Harry’s head. “It hurts Harry! All the time!”

“Lou, please, calm down.” Harry pleads, keeping himself small because Louis doesn’t like to be challenged when he’s like this. He has to try though. Last time he just let Louis keep going, they’d had to replace two floor-to-ceiling windows in their bedroom after their telly had gone through them.

“I’m not done talking!” Louis roars, his knuckles connecting with the side of Harry’s jaw and sending him crashing to the floor. Louis is small, but he’s strong. He has more muscle than you’d guess from looking at his wiry frame. Harry knows it well though. He knows exactly how much power Louis has. “Fuck, do you ever shut up?”

“Lou-” Harry whimpers.

“I said shut up!” Louis snarls, lashing out with his shoe-clad foot and catching Harry across the ribs. Pain explodes inside Harry’s chest, but he can’t cry out. He can barely breathe. Fire burns him from the inside out when he tries to scoot away, anchoring him in place. Louis grabs a fistful of his fringe, yanking to twist his head back up. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Don’t leave me alone enough as is already?”

“I can’t breathe.” Harry gasps out, his entire body heaving with the effort of just those three words. Louis rolls his eyes and pushes Harry back onto the floor. He peels back the younger boy’s shirt and sneers at the rapidly blooming spot of purple growing over the ribs underneath.

“Get to the hospital and have that taken care of. And don’t call a fucking ambulance. I don’t want to be woken up by the damn siren.” Louis growls, standing up and stalking off back to their bedroom before slamming the door shut.

 

“I’m sorry that this is taking so long Mr. Styles.” the nurse says carefully, attempting to keep her head down though Harry can tell she’s staring. “Most of the staff is gone at night, so things run a bit slower.”

“It’s fine Love, I can wait.” Harry tells her, drifting on a cloud of painkillers that the doctor had given him a little while ago. It’s still hard to breathe, but the pain is mostly gone and that makes all the difference right now. Driving to the hospital by himself had been a task of herculean effort, and by the time he’d pulled up in front of the A&E doors, he’d been crying silently for at least ten minutes because when he shook from the sobs it just hurt worse.

He told the admitting nurse that he’d fallen down a flight of stairs because he’d been too stubborn to turn on the hall-light. She’d bought it apparently, so nobody has asked any questions yet about the fist shaped bruise on Harry’s jaw. It’s a small blessing for a night where Harry feels like he’s in hell. Everyone has been really kind to him so far, and it’s making part of him want to follow their recommendations and stay overnight. But he knows better. Louis was right. Harry leaves him alone far too much already.

So he leaves against the doctor’s recommendations, because his organs are fine and there’s no immediate danger, dropping the bottle of pain pills they’d given him into the bin on the way out. Louis would just end up taking them anyways. Harry is sober enough to drive home after the hours since his first and only dose of medication, though it takes longer than it usually would because he keeps having to pull over to breathe and scratch at the bandage digging into his side that’s keeping his injury steady. Louis is spread out over the mattress when Harry makes it upstairs, so the younger lad just takes a pillow from the guest room and lays down for the night on the floor. The pain in his chest is his penance.

 

Harry learns to cook in his spare time while his ribs heal. It’s partially to keep from having to go out with his face still bruised up, but mostly because having something to focus on brings him a sense of calm. He still works out as much as he can manage, but his capacity for it has been diminished because when he pushes to hard he risks his ribs not healing properly. His lungs also aren’t up to par yet for trying to record his new album, but the label has been very understanding after the accident, so nobody is pressuring him to get a move on for the moment.

Cooking is a good way to numb himself, to fixate on something to the point where the pain slides away. He breathes easier when he forgets how much his body screams at him. It also lets him control exactly what goes into him, lets him keep himself healthy through a lack of toxins rather than through the vigorous exercise he would normally do if his body were healthy.

When Louis suggested having Harry’s family over for dinner after he’d taught himself a few basic meals, Harry couldn’t turn him down. Louis had finally looked proud of Harry again, and that made his heart swell. Maybe not everything he does is wrong still. He’s been trying so hard to be better for Louis, but he wasn’t sure he was even taking a step in the right direction until now.

He’s prepared for tonight meticulously, making sure they only have two bottles of wine in the house. He’s learned Louis’ limits, the tipping points in his behavior where he goes from being cheeky and fun, to letting everything out. He can handle two glasses of wine before his mood starts to turn, and Harry has measured it out exactly so that they’ll each have just that much.

Of course his mother brings another bottle, but Harry had planned for that too. He’d told her that he was making chicken, but he’d never really planned on it. Instead he makes a roast. It’s supposed to pair with red wine, which is what Harry has, and not the white which his mother had brought for the fabricated meal-plan.

Of course Louis is having none of it, insisting that “Nobody here cares what kind of wine goes best with it Curly. Go open your mother’s lovely gift. You’re the one that let the chicken go bad. It’s not her fault that you didn’t tell her ahead of time that things had been switched.”

He goes back to the kitchen, uncorking the wine with trembling fingers while he rings a car service. The original plan was for everyone to stay over in the guest rooms and leave in the morning, but Harry doesn’t want them to see Louis the way he’ll be soon, doesn’t want them to think less of him for Harry’s mistakes. He’s set up hotel rooms and cars to bring them back when they check out to pick up their own vehicle, as well as one pick them up in half an hour from now.

“Took you long enough.” Louis chuckles jovially when Harry returns to the dining room.

“If it’s not going to pair right, it should at least be allowed to breathe.” Harry hums, feigning calm as he pours out a glass for each of them, making sure to give Louis the smallest amount possible without it being noticeable in order to reduce the risk.

“Aren’t you having any?” Gemma laughs. “Or have your tastes become too refined for this sort of thing now? Eating without a proper pairing and all that?”

“Actually, I’m not feeling well.” Harry tells her, folding up his napkin and setting it aside. “I’ve set up some hotel rooms and a car service for you guys. I don’t think I’ll be in any shape in the morning to be a proper host for you guys in the morning. You know how fast I get sick once it starts.”

“That’s fine Darling. We’re more than happy to-” Anne starts.

“Mum, I promise, I’ll be fine. I just need some rest. You guys just enjoy the rest of dinner. The car will be here soon to pick you up, and everything is already paid for by me.” Harry cuts her off. He turns to Louis and adds “Leave the dishes for me. I’ll take care of them tomorrow, I promise.”

“I’ll get them Love.” Louis chuckles, taking a large drink off of his glass. “You just go sleep. I’ll take the guest room tonight so I don’t disturb you.”

“Thanks.” Harry nods. He gives everyone a hug good night, getting a chorus of ‘Feel better’s from his mum and Robin and Gemma.

Harry is halfway up the stairs when he hears Anne ask “How are his ribs doing?”

“As good as can be expected.” Louis replies. “You know how he is though. Stubborn, and clumsy as all hell. I’ll take care of him though. Don’t you worry yourself over him.”

 

“What the fuck are you wearing?” a voice sneers behind him, causing Harry to freeze. Fuck. Louis wasn’t supposed to be home for hours. He wasn’t supposed to see Harry like this. Nobody is. “Are those fucking panties?”

“I- Um-” Harry stammers, looking around for anything he can find to cover himself up. He grabs the towel he’d used after his shower earlier, wrapping it around his waist and holding it with one hand. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. Just- Just forget about it please.”

“Why the fuck are you wearing panties?” Louis scoffs, ignoring Harry’s plea. “That something you picked up from one of the other blokes you’re fucking?”

“I’ve never cheated on you Louis.” Harry bites out in frustration. It’s something that Louis has been accusing him more and more often of lately, and Harry isn’t sure how many times it’s going to take for him to understand that it’s true. He knows now that Louis has slept with other people when Harry’s been on tour, and he’s accepted it. He’s the one leaving someone behind, and if Louis needs that to not feel so lonely, to not leave Harry, then it’s worth it. But Harry isn’t going to do it. He’s never even considered it. “You know I wouldn’t do that. They’re just- They’re just something I do sometimes when I’m alone. Sometimes I need to feel like I look nice because people are always saying so much shit about me, and my hair, and my clothes. And no matter how hard I push my body, and how little I eat, people still pick at things like my love handles. It gets to me, even though I try not to let it.”

“Oh poor you.” Louis huffs. “Not every fucking person on the planet thinks you’re magical. Boo-fucking-hoo. You couldn’t have possibly thought fame was going to be all fun and games could you?”

“No, but-” Harry starts.

“But you can’t handle it, so you’ve had some sort of mental breakdown and wear women’s underwear.” Louis says, reaching forward and tearing the towel out of Harry’s grip to expose him once more. “For god’s sake Harry. You’re a man. You may not always look like one, but you’ve got that big fucking cock for a reason. Act like it.”

“I won’t wear them again.” Harry mumbles, hooking his fingers under the lace to peel them off.

“Might as well get a good fuck out of you while you’re in them.” Louis smirks, grabbing Harry by the wrist and tugging him out of the closet and towards the bed. From the second Louis’ fingers close around his arm, Harry shuts down, going into the near-catatonic state he’s learned to enter since the night three of his ribs were fractured a few months ago. It’s easier not to argue, not to deny Louis the ability to vent the frustrations and pain that Harry causes him.

He bends Harry over the mattress and leaves him there, knowing full well that the younger lad won’t move even an inch. He’s back a few seconds later and his hand rolls the fabric down Harry’s ass. Harry is pretty sure that he hears the fabric tear, but he doesn’t want to look back to check. Instead his eyes focus on one spot on the wall where it meets the ceiling. A bit of dust has gathered there since Harry fired the maid. He didn’t want anyone else exposed to Louis’ drunken tirades, and the older boy doesn’t seem to care anymore when the rest of the world finds it appropriate to be drinking. If he wants alcohol with breakfast, then he’ll have it, regardless of Harry’s or anyone else’s opinions on the subject.

It’s not like he does this every day. Most days Louis is still the same loving boy Harry has been with for almost three years. He’s funny and content. Then sometimes he gets like this. He has a few drinks and all the things Harry has done to him bubble up to the surface. In those moments Harry remembers a phrase that he’d learned from someone when he was younger. ‘In Vino Veritas.’ In wine there is truth. This is the truth of what Louis feels, how he suffers, and Harry is willing to take on anything to relieve that.

So he stays calm for Louis, relaxed and passive to give him what he wants. He moans when Louis pushes into him, even though it hurts from a complete lack of preparation, because Louis likes him loud. He echoes what Louis wants him to say when prompted. “I’m a dirty slut.” “You fuck me so good.” “My pussy is only for you.”

The words don’t matter. If anything, they help. He needs to degrade himself. He needs to remind himself how much pain he’s put the person that he loves more than anything through over the last few years. He’s more than willing to give whatever Louis wants to take if it helps heal all the hurt that Harry has dealt him.

 

“Can we talk?” Louis asks quietly, his voice smaller than Harry remembers it for ages. Smaller than it has been since that first time he started showing Harry how much he’s been suffering.

“Of course.” Harry nods dutifully.

“I- I’ve been awful lately, haven’t I?” Louis asks, tears already prickling at the corners of his eyes. “Like, truly awful.”

“Lou-” Harry sighs.

“Don’t lie to me Harry.” Louis mutters. “I- I don’t always remember what I do to you, but I see the bruises. I see the way you flinch when I reach towards you. I know you were lying when you said that you hurt your ribs by falling down the stairs.”

“You get upset, and that’s fair.” Harry mumbles. “I leave you alone all the time. I don’t call you as much as I should. I expect you to drop everything when I get back and just be mine, even though I’m never around. It’s hard on you, and that gets to you.”

“It does.” Louis says softly. “But I still shouldn’t be doing any of that. I- I want to quit drinking. I just don’t think I can do it alone.”

“Then we’ll do it together.” Harry tells him. “I’ll stop drinking too. No more wine with, or in, dinner. No more pubs or clubs. No more alcohol. Both of us will quit.”

“Are- Would you really do that?” Louis asks tentatively. “I know how important networking is in your field.”

“It’s not more important than us Lou.” Harry murmurs. “I know that together we can kick this.”

“I um- Can you go get rid of the alcohol from the kitchen then?” Louis requests. “If I try to do it, then I’ll end up hiding a bottle, or drinking some. I know it.”

“Of course.” Harry agrees again. Anything to help Louis. “Do you mind if we go see Zayn afterwards?”

“Not really. You haven’t met his cute new assistant yet. Any particular reason though?” Louis asks.

“Got something in mind for a new tattoo.” Harry smiles.

 

Louis’ first relapse happens less than a week after they decided to stop drinking. Harry helps him through it, forgives him. It was never going to be an easy road, and they both knew that going in. So he takes his lumps, his penance for driving Louis down this road in the first place, and dumps out the rest of the bottle of vodka once Louis passes out.

His second relapse is after almost a fortnight, a full ten days that Louis makes it, and Harry is so proud of him. Then he comes home, and Harry can smell Louis before he sees him. It’s more than alcohol, though that’s clearly present by the tang in the air. It’s the sickly sweet aroma of weed, and the unmistakable stench of sex too. At least he’s calm, the marijuana mellowing him out more than the alcohol releases his anger. Harry forgives him again. Mistakes are bound to happen.

It only takes four days until Louis stumbles again. This time he’s well and truly furious. Harry hasn’t needed to go catatonic in weeks, but it comes back like second nature while Louis patterns Harry’s arms with a web of purpled marks. In the morning, Harry forgives him.

After another week passes without a slip, Harry lets himself hope that this is the time that it’ll take, that Louis will be able to resist. He’s proved wrong the next night, and has to cancel an interview after his eye swells shut. But Harry forgives him.

Two days later Harry decides to stop hoping that things will change this easily. That he can help Louis find the right way. He stops believing that he might deserve the mercy that Louis’ sober days grant him. He brought this all on himself by being selfish, by leaving Louis alone, he remembers. Now that patch of ink on his arm is just a reminder of his own stupid selfishness, trying to change Louis when Harry has already hurt him enough. They don’t talk about sobriety again the next morning, and Harry decides that it’s for the best.

At least they’re not pretending anymore. Harry is the one who needs to be forgiven, and that’s obvious now, as it should have always been.

 

“I can’t do it alone Harry.” Louis mumbles.

“I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in almost a year Louis.” Harry tells him. “You wouldn’t be doing it alone.”

“I don’t just mean staying on the wagon.” Louis sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “I mean all of this. I mean all the times when you’re touring and I’m lonely and jobless. I mean living in this place by myself.”

“Do- Are you asking me to quit my career?” Harry questions.

“No.” Louis says, shaking his head. “You were born for this Harry. What I’m asking for is a baby. I need somebody who needs me too. I need someone to take care of who forces me to be the best version of myself. You’re gone for half of the year making albums and doing tours. I need something to tie us together when you’re gone.”

“A baby.” Harry repeats dumbly. “You want a baby.”

“I need a baby Harry.” Louis tells him, stressing the word ‘need’ so that Harry fully comprehends it. “I don’t think I can do this otherwise.”

“We can’t have a baby until you’re actually sober Louis.” Harry says, pushing back from the table. “I- I can’t expose a child to the way you are when you drink. Even if you never laid a hand on them, you could forget about them or something. It’s too dangerous.”

“Do you really think I’d be such a bad father?” Louis asks softly.

“Not if you were sober.” Harry tells him. “You’d be an amazing father if you could curb this, but so far you’ve never made it more than two weeks without a drink.”

“Then what if I make it a month?” Louis asks. “Will you consider it?”

“If you can make it a month, I’ll have an appointment with a surrogacy agent lined up by the next day.” Harry nods. “But that means a month free from everything Louis. Not just alcohol. No more drugs either, or other sexual partners. None of it. And it’s not just one month. It has to be a permanent first step. It has to be this month, and next month, and all the ones after that. If you slip off the wagon again, then I’m not going to reconsider this. Not ever. I won’t have a child raised in that environment. It’s not healthy or safe.”

“I’ll do it. I promise.” Louis breathes out. “I can do this. We can do this.”

 

Louis doesn’t slip. He comes close, needs to call Harry at a few different points to come get him from wherever he’s ended up before he can make a mistake. He doesn’t actually slip though. So Harry makes the call, following through on his word, though he’s still tentative about the entire idea. He wants this, wants a family with Louis, but he’s still not entirely sure of the older lad’s ability to refrain from giving in to temptation. Especially when Harry has to leave soon for a few weeks to finish up the last leg of his current tour in America.

He’s hurt Louis enough though, has put him through the ringer and broken promises to him too many times not to keep this one. So here they are, sitting in the overly-sterile feeling office of a surrogacy agency that Harry’s solicitor assured him will keep their matters private and has a reputation beyond reproach. Harry’s fiddling nervously with anything within reach, and Louis looks like the picture of serenity. He’s calmer than Harry has seen him in literally years, relaxed and confident. Sobriety fits him well.

He’s different though. He’s not the same as he was before everything started, but in a good way. He’s developed into more of an adult. Not by much, but by more than Harry expected at this stage in their lives together. When he was younger he’d mistaken Louis’ age, and the occasional moment of sincerity, for maturity. That’s not entirely the case though. Not in the real world. Being an adult has more to do with controlling yourself, with knowing when and how to ask for help if you need it, which is something that Louis has never particularly mastered until lately.

Harry likes the change, likes how Louis has become more reserved. He’s still brash, can still kick up a shit-storm when the inkling hits him, but now it’s in the name of fun rather than anything else. Harry has been on the end of more of Louis’ pranks in the past month than in the last few years combined, but he’s more than happy to go along with them as long as they keep Louis smiling and moving forward.

“Surrogacy in the UK is- Complicated.” the man behind the desk tells them. “There are a lot of restrictions in place around certain things, and almost no regulation on others. That’s where our agency comes in. The law states that intended parents, or IPs as they’re known in this industry, cannot pay a surrogate for the actual service they perform. That, combined with the surrogate’s legal parental rights towards children they nurture, have created their fair share of havoc over the last few years. I want to assure you though, that we have never had such problems.

“While IPs cannot pay a surrogate, they can pay an agency such as ours which is classified as a Head Hunting organization. We find potential surrogates based on a range of demanding qualifications, and classify them as employees because they let our doctors study their pregnancies. All of this for a fee of course. Our general going rate is eighty-thousand pounds, plus the cost of IVF and medical coverage for the selected surrogate. Getting a surrogate to sign a non-disclosure agreement is an additional fee of ten thousand pounds, though you may take that risk if you like. I wouldn’t recommend it for you two though.”

“No, we’ll definitely require the NDA to be signed.” Harry sighs. “The cost shouldn’t be a problem. What is the general timeline for this process?”

“We can have potential surrogates selected for you by the end of the day, and I’ll have their files messengered over for you to have a look through in the morning.” the man smiles. “First you’ll need to do a questionnaire about what you’re looking for in the mother of your child. It’s very in depth, and I recommend that you both think very carefully about the answers you give, because we have a wide range of candidates and your responses are what helps narrow it down. After you select someone, things will move a bit faster. You’ll need to get to know the surrogate, and spend time with the three of you until you’re all sure that the arrangement will work.”

“I’m leaving at the end of the month to finish up my tour.” Harry informs him. “I’ll be gone for a few weeks, but when I get back, we’ll be able to get into things, yeah?”

“Of course Mr. Styles.” he nods.

 

One girl in particular catches their attention. All of the candidates seem like good people, but this one in particular just seems to call out to Louis. So they’ve set up a meeting with her, just a lunch to get to know each other and see if they’re all compatible. Part of Harry wants it to not work out, to help elongate the process until he’s more assured of Louis’ stability in his sobriety.

She’s lovely though. Not just physically, though she is undeniably beautiful, but right down to her core. She has the most genuine smile that Harry has ever seen in a person, and she offers it without reservation. She’s polite beyond what Harry ever expected, and smart, though they’d figured that out from the fact that she’s in university.

“So, why did you get into this?” Harry finally asks, broaching the topic that the conversation has skirted around until now. “Surrogacy I mean. Your file said that you’re studying Sociology, and that you make a good income as a model in your spare time.”

“Harry!” Louis hisses, his eyes going wide with surprise.

“It’s alright.” Eleanor says with a light laugh. “You’re right about me making a decent living as a model, though I’m only doing that until I finish school. I don’t need to do this as far as money is concerned. I chose to do it because there are so many couples out there who can’t have a child for themselves, and I want to do what I can to help them since I can. I’m young and healthy, and I feel like I should do whatever I can to improve the lives of the people who need a little help.”

“Wow.” Louis breathes out. “That’s- That’s amazing.”

Harry has to agree. Most people would probably say something similar in this situation, but with Eleanor it’s undeniably the truth. She’s so kind that Harry can feel it radiating off of her in waves that make him want to be a better person just from being around her. She’s a good person, and Harry might just love her.

 

The house is still when Harry gets home from the airport, but it doesn’t reek of anything too strongly, so he takes it as a good sign. Louis might not even be home. Or he could be sleeping. Quiet doesn’t have to mean bad. In fact the loud nights tend to be the worst. They’re the ones where Louis is too far gone to even try to keep himself in control. They’re the ones that end with Harry wearing long sleeved shirts and makeup he had to teach himself to apply so that nobody knows his shame.

He drops his suitcase off in the bedroom, noting that Louis isn’t there, but deciding to unpack later. Right now he just wants to unwind, to shake off the tightness in his shoulders that always builds up when he’s been on a flight. He heads straight for the fridge, sighing when he finds what he both feared and expected, a large case of beer and not a small variety of liquor bottles.

He goes to work quickly, wanting to finish as soon as possible in case Louis is just somewhere in the house and they haven’t noticed each other yet, or if he comes home soon. Harry knows how this will end now that Louis has apparently fallen back into old habits, knows that he’ll be sporting a swollen, purpled eye in the morning, but he can’t back down on this anymore. He drains bottle after bottle, wrinkling his nose at the smell of alcohol rising up at him from the drain. Each clink of glass-on-glass in the bottom of the rubbish bin is a small victory. It’s Harry standing up for himself, for Louis, for what they have. It’s Harry saying that he’s not going to just let this happen anymore.

“You should probably keep at least one of those for yourself.” a voice says behind Harry, making him flinch. For such a loud person, Louis is quiet when he wants to be.

“I don’t drink anymore Louis. You know that.” Harry mumbles, ignoring the part of himself that wants to scream about Louis having finally been secure on the wagon even though he’d been doing so well. The part that wants to rage because he’d lulled himself into a false sense of security with how much Louis truly seemed to want to start their family. That’s not a conversation he’s ready to have.

“You will tonight. That’s why I bought all of that for you.” Louis says quietly. “We need to talk.”

“You’re not throwing one of your parties here Louis.” Harry sighs. “I’ve told you before, it’s not happening.”

“Styles will you turn around and look at me?” Louis snaps.

“What?” Harry yells, turning on his heel ready to scream that he’s not going to stop pouring out the fucking booze. The words fall away as he takes in the scene in front of him. Louis has a bag slung around his shoulders, and another large suitcase on either side of him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving Harry.” Louis says quietly, at least having the decency to look ashamed of himself, his eyes cast down towards the floor rather than up at the man whose heart he’s breaking. “I- I fell in love with someone, and we’re moving in together.”

“No!” Harry chokes out. “No, Lou please! We can work this out.”

“I married her Harry. It’s fast, but we spent every day together while you were gone, and we know that we’re meant to be together.” Louis sighs, rubbing his temples. The glint of the ring on his finger gives credence to his story, but Harry doesn’t believe it. He can’t believe it. “It’s over. I waited until today so that you wouldn’t just come back and find a note or something. I owed you that.”

“You owe me a hell of a lot more than that!” Harry cries, tears flowing down his cheeks as he feels himself start to tremble. “You don’t get to just leave me like this!”

“It’s already done Styles.” Louis shrugs, keeping his eyes glued to the wall. “This hasn’t been right for a long time now, and we both know it.”

“We were going to have a baby.” Harry whimpers. “What- What did I do?”

“It’s not you. I just fell in love with her. I didn’t mean to, but it happened, and we got married last night at the courthouse.” Louis mumbles. “For what it’s worth, I really do love you. I don’t know what happened.”

“Who is it?” Harry asks, though he’s positive he doesn’t want to know the answer.

“Harry-” Louis starts, but Harry isn’t having it.

“Who the fuck is she Louis?” Harry growls.

“It’s Eleanor.” Louis whispers.

“Go! Just fucking go!” Harry snarls. “Leave four fucking years behind! And fuck you for thinking it’s worth anything that you love me! If you love me you wouldn’t have done it Louis. You wouldn’t have done any of the shit you put me through.”

“Maybe not.” Louis sighs. “Maybe I haven’t loved you for a long time. I should have though. I know that much.”

“Get out!” Harry wails. He’s breaking apart at the seams, and he needs to let it out. He needs Louis to leave so that he can scream and cry and let out every bit of pain mixed with every bit of relief that is tearing him apart in this second.

Louis nods, picking up his bags and walking out the door without another word. Harry picks up the closest bottle, hurling it at the wall with everything he has and watches it explode in slow motion. Glass flies through the air, blowing out dangerously from the stain running down the wall already. Harry has another bottle in his hand before a single shard even hits the ground. He throws every single one that’s left on the counter until he has nothing left.

He sinks to his knees, ignoring the searing pain from the shards that find their homes in his legs. It’s a good hurt, grounding him to the moment. It takes away from the storm of agony raging away inside of his chest. One glints up at him from the floor, long and dangerous, but he turns down the invitation it offers him. He wasn’t ever even brave enough to leave Louis. There’s no way he’s brave enough to leave his life. Not even if Louis didn’t once say he was sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> If you got through this, thank you for reading. Also, I'm sorry. I'm considering doing one of these bonus chapters around Niall's past, but if I do that then I won't post it until after the main story is completed. Right now it's just a thought in the back of my mind.


End file.
